Page 66 of The Twilight Theft

Craig replied, “I have them.”

“Wyatt’s late. Where is he?”

“I just handed him his—”

“Donovan, you son of a bitch!” Not only had Wyatt arrived, but he’d apparently received his earpiece from Craig. “I’m coming down there and—”

“Their cover’s already established,” Craig said in Wyatt’s background, but the line went silent.

“Wyatt’s here,” I whispered to Jayce.

“So’s Rav,” she said. “He’s currently complaining about Wyatt’s reaction to working with him tonight.”

A dozen people descended on the Tremaines as they made their way to the center of the room. They focused on those talking around them—Gideon on a man discussing golf and Liana on a woman who was asking about a spa visit—and walked past us without a second glance.

The hair prickling at the nape of my neck told me Vanessa was watching. Good thing we’d decided the Tremaines wouldn’t acknowledge any of the Bishop or Reynolds team members.

“Wyatt,” came Craig’s voice over our team’s comms. “Get back here.”

“I’ve got a job to do, Craig.” Wyatt was far more upset than I’d expected. Did he honestly believe something would happen between him and Jayce?

Had she given him some indication?

“Don’t screw with Drew and Jayce. They’ve already interacted with people and shown they’re together. Calm down and do your job.” Craig’s voice remained controlled, just as we’d all been trained to handle our emotions.

Why Wyatt couldn’t keep his grievances to himself was another question. Maybe the ball of chaos next to me fried more brains than just mine.

More guests poured into the banquet room, which steadily grew stifling. Everyone wanted to see what was under the black tarp.

“I’d wager,” said a muted voice behind me, “it’s a tiny thing in an enormous glass case.”

“I’ll take that bet,” said someone else. “Liana doesn’t know how to make things small.”

“But it’s Gideon’s chip in there. If it were that big—”

The two continued their debate as they moved past us. The gossip flowed around us, everyone wondering what the big surprise was. We were too close to the action, standing in the center of the room, in front of the golden bird.

I threaded my fingers around Jayce’s and tapped twice with my thumb. Thumb was hide, right? Pinky was getting physical?

“I’m curious about that painting.” Jayce inclined her head toward the back of the room, near the staff door. Three large paintings and two smaller ones stood on easels for prospective bidders.

The Tremaines’ gravitational pull had practically cleared out that area as we moved toward it.

Jayce stopped in front of a painting, a shimmering gold swath of metal embedded in blue paint. “Watch over my shoulder.”

I let go of her hand and pivoted, so I faced her, stroking the back of my knuckles down the length of her arm.

She tensed. “It’s completely reasonable for you to look at the crowd. Everyone else is.”

“That’s what I’m doing.” It was cover, that was all. If I wasn’t admiring my date, it would have made more sense to look at the painting. “I’m a professional, too, remember?”

“Brie, what have you got?” Jayce asked, not taking her eyes off the artwork.

The room buzzed with conversation, and no one paid us any heed.

I said, “She’s playing with the fabric. I recognize one tech giant, two senators, and three members of Congress. Opera singer. A couple of pop stars.”

“Quite the crowd,” said Jayce. “Brie says the House leader’s in the main dining room. And some social media influencers who are worth a small fortune.”

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